


What's Wrong With a Little Chaos?

by reyloandbehold



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyloandbehold/pseuds/reyloandbehold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 1x10. Finn and Clarke escape captivity with just enough time to warn Bellamy and the surviving 100 that time is of the essence: either they leave camp or they join the others in the grave. Little do they know that running solves one problem, but opens the door to more. Can Bellamy and Clarke keep their people alive when certain death can be hiding behind each tree and following hotly on their trail?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Wrong With a Little Chaos?

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multi-chaptered fic, and while it starts off setting the pace, things will pick up, get more in depth and introduce and work with different relationships/interactions between the characters. Plot-driven, but there is no lack of romance :)

 

_And so the ground shook with a thousand feet,_  
 _Speeding up hearts faster than any drum beat._  
 _As the tempo increases, War marches ever closer._

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thin vines tried to hold Clarke back as she struggled through the underbrush, clinging to her neck and arms, slicing into her- and making her pause too many times- only reaffirming what Anya had told her: this was not her land. She could not focus on Finn’s curses as he too fought against the foliage. They had to keep moving forward.

They had gotten lucky, Clarke knew, when she had recognized the white granules in the caves she had been sentenced to, with a knife threatening Finn’s life if she did not save a badly injured girl. It had been no easy task convincing the Grounders that she needed a flame in order to cauterize the girl’s wounds.

Sugar was flammable, and sending a dust cloud of it into the air, where it could mingle with oxygen, created a small scale explosion. And a diversion.

Clarke hadn’t waited to see if any of the guards watching her and Finn had been injured, or even if Finn had followed her as she ran as fast as she could out of the cave and into open forest. While she had been unconscious for the first half of the kidnapping, Clarke used their position in relation to Mount Weather as a guide back home.

The forest was trying desperately to keep her imprisoned, but she kept moving, ignoring the sting of razor sharp thorns, and even Finn: right now, he wasn’t important. There were eighty-seven lives she needed to save, and if he couldn’t keep up she just couldn’t  worry about it.

Words she wasn’t meant to hear still taunted her, threatening any hope she had that they would survive the night. “A thousand strong march this way,” one of the guards had whispered to the other, his eyes shining behind the deformed skull he wore.

So Clarke had acted quickly, telling Finn to follow her lead before igniting the air. But four Grounders only slightly injured was not a victory. It would only further incite retaliation, and Clarke needed to get back to the camp and to Bellamy and they needed to move.

“I recognize this,” Finn shouted behind her, his breathing labored and shaky. “Keep going straight. We’re almost there.”

Her need to get home burned worse than the muscles of her legs. The dryness in her throat egged her on, because parched lips were easier to sate than the tears mourning a hundred dead. Each breath her lungs gobbled up, sending a mutilated gasp out of her mouth, were the names of her fellow criminals.

These thoughts bubbled from her when the Wall suddenly became visible, and she let out a sob, because survival was still possible. It could be done.

“Bellamy!” The watchman hollered into the depths of the camp, and Clarke limped forward, needing to collapse, but not knowing how.

Some mutterings later and the door opened, releasing into the forest a gun clad Bellamy. Clarke almost cried at the sight of him.

“Get water!” He ordered to the guard, and then broke into a run, swooping Clarke in his arms to support her as she staggered. “Clarke, are you guys okay?” His eyes darted towards Finn, who was bent over, trying to catch his breath.

“No,” Clarke panted, “We need to leave. Bellamy. We need to leave now.”

“She’s right, Bellamy,” Finn interjected before Bellamy could give voice to his incredulous expression, “There’s an army of at least a thousand headed this way. We won’t survive the night.”

Silence permeated as the notion of a thousand Grounders’ marching across the land shook the foundation of Bellamy’s reserve. Clarke watched his fear peep through the fractures of his steel gaze, and she squeezed his hand softly.

“We need to get moving now. There is no time. If we want to get a head start and still be able to pack supplies-”

“Where would we go?”

His question wasn’t sarcastic or disagreeing, Clarke realized, noting the sincerity in his voice. Bellamy wanted answers, and right now, she had them.

“We go west,” she stated, trying to get her heartbeat to calm down so she could think. Focus on the facts. “Major waterways are more than likely home to other Grounders, so we follow the smaller tributaries, until we get far enough away. Then we go from there.”

“Alright,” he nodded his head and walked away from her, feeling confident she wouldn’t collapse. “I’ll get things organized. You two rest and drink water. Five minutes only. We leave in fifteen.”

There was a hard determination in his eyes that Clarke recognized from the Landing, and she was confident that if anyone could organize a mob in the blink of an eye, it was Bellamy.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get out in time?” Finn’s question was a dagger through her momentary assuredness, and she almost wanted to scoff at him for asking. It was a valid question though, no matter how she tried to play it in her head.

“Yes,” she confirmed, meeting his gaze for the first time in days, “Bellamy will make it happen. Now shut up. We need to recoup before we run again.”

Her legs felt like jello, so she all but fell to the floor. Ass on the trampled grass, Clarke catalogued her meager supplies with eyes fixed on the fifteen graves of her fallen people.

They cleared her mind and kept her grounded.

She hoped no other graves were dug tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts, as I strive to always improve!


End file.
